


be my fire in the cold

by emorosadiaz



Series: 12 Days of Starmora 2017 [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Family, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 20:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12942699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emorosadiaz/pseuds/emorosadiaz
Summary: “So?” Nebula asks, like hearing that someone wants to marry your sisterisn’tthebiggest deal everin the world, especially when that someone isGamora, who’s an evenbigger dealin the world, but Nebula’s just sitting there as if he hadn’t even told her anything.“So?!” Peter echoes, voice not unlike asqueakat this point. “So, I want tomarryyoursister!That’shuge!”“Why are you talking tomeabout it?”He groans. “You’re her frickin’sister!OfcourseI’d talk to you about it!”





	be my fire in the cold

**Author's Note:**

> combined days 2 and 3 bc this has to do with both and it turned out kinda long just to be one day so yayyyyyy !!!!! snow

12 Days of Starmora, Days 2 & 3: Gifts

* * *

“Hey, Nebula?”

Peter tries (and partially succeeds) to take a deep, calming breath as Nebula looks up from where she’s seated at the dining table, alone, to face him. Her face is as stony as always, eyes unreadable and mouth caught in what he’s come to believe to be a permanent scowl.

“What?” she asks, a touch of impatience in her voice.

He resists the urge to turn and run the hell away then and there, not just because of the generally scary atmosphere that surrounds Nebula always, but because of why, exactly, he’s approaching her alone like this. He swallows in an attempt to placate his nerves, taking a few cautious steps into the kitchen.

“I want to—I have—I need—“ Three different statements try to escape his lips at once, prompting him to close his mouth with a muffled groan.

“Have you forgotten how to speak, Quill?” Nebula asks, her scowl even _scarier_ , the impatience much more obvious in her voice. She watches him carefully, calculating, and he forces himself to get closer.

He stops before her, setting a hand on the empty chair beside her for balance. He takes another deep breath.

“I’m here to—uh, tell you—“

“Tell me _what?_ ”

“I want—“

“Yes?”

“I just—“

“Spit it out, Quill.”

“I want to ask Gamora to marry me!”

He finally blurts it out, immediately bracing for impact and screwing his eyes shut. He waits for some sort of outburst or snide comment from Nebula, but instead, all he receives is silence.

Curious, he opens his eyes, only to see her still staring blankly at him.

“So?” she asks, like hearing that someone wants to marry your sister _isn’t_ the _biggest deal ever_ in the world, especially when that someone is _Gamora_ , who’s an even _bigger deal_ in the world, but Nebula’s just sitting there as if he hadn’t even told her anything.

“ _So?!_ ” he echoes, voice not unlike a _squeak_ at this point. “ _So_ , I want to _marry_ your _sister!_ That’s _huge!_ ”

“Why are you talking to _me_ about it?”

He groans. “You’re her frickin’ _sister!_ Of _course_ I’d talk to you about it!”

Nebula shrugs, turning back to the table. “I don’t care.”

“ _Nebula_ ,” he says, _exasperated_ , because he really doesn’t understand how someone could be so… _passive_ about their closest-thing-to-family’s significant other asking to propose.

“I’m only Gamora’s _adoptive_ sister,” Nebula reminds. “Because of _Thanos_. I have no place in influencing these parts of her life.”

She pushes her chair out from the table, standing up abruptly.

“Nebula, you _know_ she considers you a really big part of her life, just as much as she does her biological family—“

“She considers all of _you_ just as important, perhaps,” Nebula says, walking away. “I can’t make decisions like this for her.”

“I’m not—I’m not asking you to decide—“

He reaches out and grabs her by the wrist, but finds himself flat on his back against the floor just two, maybe three seconds later, _tops_. Nebula stands over him with a great frown, eyes somehow colder than before.

“Don’t talk to me about this again,” she warns before stalking off.

Once she’s out of the room, Peter groans, sitting up slowly. He rubs his head with a sigh.

Gamora enters the kitchen, of course, because _timing_ and _fate_ and all those annoying things that test Peter daily, especially when he wants to surprise Gamora. She’s holding an empty cup, probably to get more water, but then stops at the sight of him on the ground.

“Peter? What are you doing?”

“Oh, just…hanging out down here, y’know,” he says, turning to her. “Just the _‘uge_.”

“This is not usual,” she says, walking around him to get to the sink. She sets her cup down on the counter.

He sighs, thinking back to what Nebula said. He isn’t really sure what to make of her words; he wasn’t trying to ask her for _permission_ , he just wants her support and approval, especially as Gamora’s sister, even if not by blood. Nebula’s the only person who really knows and understands what Gamora went through under Thanos because she’d been stuck there with her. It’s only fitting that Nebula should get to know Peter’s plans ahead of time.

“Are you okay?” Gamora asks. She’s filled her cup with water and is coming back, sitting down on the floor with him. She frowns as she brushes a few crumbs away, crossing her legs. Their knees touch and she offers him her cup of water.

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving his hand. She takes a sip of the water.

“You only say ‘Yeah,’ three times like that when you’re not okay,” she says, looking at the remaining water.

“Wha—? You totally just made that up,” he says.

“I’m observant.”

He accepts the water then, finishing off the cup. “I was talking to Nebula.”

“Oh?” He’s not sure what explanation she’d expected, but apparently she hadn’t expected that.

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging and putting the cup down on the floor beside them. “It wasn’t really anything major. I just want to get to know her better.”

“She’s…tough to talk to,” Gamora says, pandering, but Peter shakes his head.

“It’s okay. She just doesn’t really know me—or the others—that well yet. If I were her, I probably wouldn’t trust me, either,” he says, honestly, because even if talking to Nebula is almost as challenging as their fight against frickin’ _Ronan_ , Peter really can’t blame her. She doesn’t have much reason to trust him, aside from what she knows of him through Gamora and what she’s actually witnessed with her own eyes.

“She likes you,” Gamora says, laying a hand on Peter’s knee. “Really, she does. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t.”

“Yeah? Well, I think she’s pretty cool, too,” he says. “I just want to get to know her better.”

“Give it time,” she says. “I know it’s asking a lot, since Nebula can be…frustrating, but—“

“Hey, she’s an asshole like the rest of us,” he says with a small grin. “We’ll get there. After all, you and I are _pretty_ comfortable with each other, I’d argue.”

That pulls a smile out of Gamora, finally. She sighs. “Thank you, Peter. For trying. And for being patient with her.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. Nebula’s approval or not, he’s looking forward to holding Gamora’s hand forever.

* * *

Nebula isn’t sure what the hell Quill was trying to accomplish when he approached her the other day, but what she _does_ know is that her sister’s beloved “team” is pretty bad at their so-called “gardening of the galaxy,” because somehow a heist led to a shootout with an entire _army_ of Kree purists and Gamora, idiotic as ever (trust Nebula, she _knows_ ), wrestled with one and rolled into a frozen lake. While Quill and the others panicked, Nebula knew that Gamora would be fine, because she’s _Gamora_.

Gamora does not break; this is virtually _impossible_. The last time Nebula had seen Gamora be anything _close_ to broken was years and years ago, when they were still children with bright eyes and dreams of escaping Thanos together, living out the rest of their days on a beachy planet as sisters.

(Young Gamora had suggested the beach part, saying it would make every day feel like a vacation. Young Nebula had wholeheartedly agreed.)

Things have changed since then, obviously, because Nebula can’t see herself settling down on just one planet _ever_ , let alone with Gamora, who now has a whole group of idiots in tow. So, a little water isn’t _that_ big of a deal, even if it’s more on the frigid side.

But when the Kree purist in question surfaced on the water with no sign of Gamora, Nebula caught a flicker of movement in her peripheral—a movement that turned out to be the _just_ as idiotic (if not more, Nebula will give her sister that), Quill diving in after Gamora, as if the low temperature of the water wouldn’t affect him _more_.

(Which it would and does, because he’s just a Terran, while Gamora has been cybernetically enhanced to withstand low temperatures.)

Everyone erupted into yelling then, Nebula herself ready with a _scalding_ comment, but there was no time, because her legs apparently moved faster than her tongue and she found herself diving in after both her stupid sister _and_ her stupid sister’s stupid boyfriend.

And now they’re here, hours later, back safely on the Quadrant. The last Nebula heard, Quill and Gamora were trying to warm up in the captain’s quarters through… _whatever_ means they deemed necessary ( _disgusting_ ).

So, Nebula’s back in her usual spot, alone at the dining table, trying to piece everything together. She still doesn’t understand _how_ Gamora could end up with someone so…so much like _Quill_. He’s hardly ever serious and has cried _at least_ _once_ every time Nebula has ever been in his presence, but somehow, the two of them make it work.

Quill jumping into the water after Gamora happened so slowly, yet so quickly, before Nebula’s eyes. When she replays the moment in her mind, she can practically see Quill’s thought process, from the moment he watched Gamora fall into the lake, called out her name, waited for her to surface, realized she _wasn’t_ surfacing, disregarded any and all rationality and logic (like, the fact that Nebula is _obviously_ the superior option between him and her for who should jump into a frozen lake to save someone), and just.

Just _jumped in_ , like it was nothing, even though she, begrudgingly, realizes he _must_ know _some things_ , such as his limits as a Terran, but took no time in prioritizing Gamora over them—a _clear_ violation of one of the first lessons Nebula had learned from Thanos, to only ever watch her _own_ back and never trust anyone else to do it for her.

What Quill did was stupid. It was irrational. It was _suicidal_.

(…But was it really a sign of _weakness?_ )

(What scares Nebula most is the realization that, had Quill and Gamora’s roles been reversed, whether it be a frozen lake or some other lethal threat, Gamora would probably act _just_ as idiotically if it meant saving Quill.)

She drums her fingers against the table, calculating, but the numbers just aren’t adding up.

* * *

Peter’s pulled out of sleep by the sound of knocking on his door. He sits up slightly, blinking away drowsiness, as the knocker reveals herself to be Nebula.

“If you don’t answer in five seconds, I will assume you’re dead and kick down your door,” she announces.

“Or you can just open it like a normal person,” he calls back. “It’s unlocked.”

Nebula wastes no time there, sliding it open before he’s barely finished speaking. It’s then that Peter registers Gamora curled into him under the covers, as she pushes her face more closely into his side at the sudden noise. He rubs her arm, only to find her still shivering ever so slightly.

“How is she?” Nebula demands, apparently unconcerned for him (which, okay, _same_ , Peter’s not at all concerned for himself, either, when Gamora’s as big of a part of the equation as she is currently), stalking up to their bed. She comes to a stop on Gamora’s side, standing over her. Her characteristically steely, dark eyes are fixated solely on the mess of hair and blankets that is Gamora.

He pulls her a little more closely to him. “She’s still cold,” he murmurs, rubbing her arm again. “Can you—?”

By the time he looks up to ask, Nebula’s already on her way back to the bed (when did she step away…?) with another blanket from _who_ _knows where_ , still wearing her patented scowl. She unfolds it halfway, laying it solely over Gamora.

“Thanks,” he says, amused. “And thanks for, uh, earlier.”

“Idiot,” is her way of saying, “You’re welcome,” apparently. She crosses her arms. “What were you _thinking?_ The only one in danger of freezing to death at that point was _you_ with your weak Terran biology.”

“I think you’re overstating things _just_ a tiny bit,” Peter suggests.

“Oh, _please_ ,” she says, rolling her eyes. (This is the most he’s seen her emote in the three days she’s been onboard with them…) “Gamora would’ve been _fine_. She’s built to withstand extreme temperatures.”

He presses his lips together, searching Nebula’s eyes for a moment. “Not _always_.”

She huffs, sitting on the foot of the bed. “I didn’t realize you were an expert in Zen-Whoberi biology.”

“I know things,” he says.

“Really? This is the first I’ve heard of this,” she says dryly.

“Oh, my God,” Peter mutters, rolling his eyes to look up at the ceiling, because blood relation or not, Gamora and Nebula are a little _too_ similar for him to handle sometimes, and he thought _he’d_ been Gamora’s best teacher in the fine arts of sacarsm, but.

“So you know that Zen-Whoberis aren’t built to handle the cold, congratulations. But you’re a little late on that by an entire _childhood_ ,” Nebula continues.

“I _know_ you guys have been modified,” Peter insists. “I just…can’t help but worry sometimes, okay? And I know Gamora’s read up a lot on Terran biology—“

“Disgusting.”

“—so I wanted to return the favor,” he finishes, as if she’d never interrupted. “Her biology could be _completely_ different now; I don’t care. I wanted to learn more about her.”

Now it’s Nebula’s turn to press her lips together. “She was a sickly child when I first met her. It took her a while to acclimate to…everything. Even with body mods.”

Nebula ends the sentence on an open note, sounding as if she had more to say on the subject, but she doesn’t continue. Peter nods in understanding.

“She runs a little more on the cold side,” he says. “Body mods or not.”

And Nebula confirms this with the slightest nod. She looks down at Gamora’s head just barely poking out from the mess of blankets covering her.

“She loves you,” Nebula says. “She doesn’t love often.”

“I love her, too,” Peter says.

Silence falls between them, both turning their attention to Gamora’s slow breathing. Her shivering has subsided _finally_ , allowing Peter to sigh in relief. He carefully maneuvers his hand to her face, brushing away some of the stray strands of hair falling this way and that. With her face cleared, he watches her for a moment, eyes tracing the silver scars lining her features. He can’t help but glance at Nebula, to compare, and he quickly finds himself drowning in the depth of Gamora and Nebula’s tumultuous relationship as sisters through a shared, abusive father.

“Nebula?” Peter says, voice nearly a _whisper_. “You know she loves you a lot, too, right?”

Nebula doesn’t really convey any visible emotion outside of a blink. He decides to take it as affirmation.

“I’m sorry I caught you off guard the other day,” he continues, voice growing quieter, smaller. “I wasn’t trying to…ask permission. I—I want this, and I know she wants this, too. We’re going to do it no matter what.”

“It’s her choice,” is all Nebula says, moving to stand up.

“I just wanted you to know beforehand,” he says quickly, before she can walk out on this conversation again. “You deserve to know…and you’re probably the only person I can tell who’ll actually keep this a secret.”

She almost smiles, _almost_. Peter catches her lips twitching ever so slightly, but he decides to take it as a victory, anyway. “Get some rest, Quill. Make sure my sister doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I’ll try my best,” he says, relaxing back against the bed. She stands and turns to leave.

“And if you ever do anything like that again,” she says, walking away, “I will kill you before my sister can.”

He wishes he possessed the ability to match Nebula’s level of sassery, but all that comes out of him is a nervous laugh. She doesn’t stop until she’s out the door, closing it behind her.

And, beside him, Gamora stirs, her hand running up his bicep. She turns her face to meet his eyes sleepily, something that Peter would probably call a _dumb_ smile (but won’t because Gamora, like, never looks dumb, it’s actually impossible) forming on her face.

He sighs. “You heard everything just now, didn’t you?”

She just continues smiling, resuming her previous position and closing her eyes with a yawn. Her arms wrap around his midsection tightly.

“Love you,” she mumbles into his skin.

“Love you, too, babe.”

* * *

“I have a gift for you, Quill.”

It’s been about a week since the frozen lake incident, meaning it’s time for Nebula to go back to doing…Nebula…things… _whatever_ the hell kind of things those would be. They’re docked on a planet not unlike Knowhere, with a plethora of ships and shops, so it won’t be too hard for Nebula to get around.

Gamora’s already exchanged her goodbyes with her sister, only to have to run off to deal with Groot getting into some sort of mischief with Rocket on the other side of the Quadrant, so Peter’s the one to walk Nebula off the ship. They haven’t had a super serious conversation like the post-hypothermia-near-death-experience one they’d had before since the botched heist, but Peter will go so far as to say he feels _something’s_ shifted between himself and Nebula, hopefully for the better.

And now Nebula’s stopping in her tracks, just before she can exit the ship completely, turning back to face him properly. He blinks once, twice, waiting for her to say _more_ , but she apparently needs more of a reaction to continue.

So, he nods slowly. “Yes…?”

“Gamora always gives me supplies when I leave your ship,” Nebula explains with a troubled frown. Peter tries not to laugh ( _siblings,_ he thinks, always torn between fighting and helping each other). “I thought I should give her something in return.”

“Wait, wait,” he says, shaking his head, “is this for _me_ or for _her?_ ”

“You have my blessing,” Nebula says instead, as simply as she says pretty much _anything_.

By the time Peter registers _what_ she’s said, she’s already turned and walking from the ramp of the Quadrant onto the actual ground. He rushes after her, setting a hand on her arm, and this time—

This time, there is no flipping or slamming, but simply a _flinch_ , involuntary, before Nebula turns back to face him, expression still blank, but with a flicker of… _something_ there. He can’t identify it right then and there, but.

“Nebula?” he says, unsure of how else to say anything that _isn’t_ her name, because _did that just happen?_

“I’ll be back,” she says. “Don’t die before then.”

“That’s the, goal, uh...” He lets go of Nebula, watching her watch him, then can’t help but jump maybe once, twice, _three times_ up and down, because, holy _shit_ , Nebula actually thinks he’s _good_ for Gamora. “Thank you so much, Nebula, really, you don’t understand—“

“I don’t understand why she chose you,” she admits, cutting in, tilting her head. “I do understand that you are…not the worst choice. She could’ve had worse.”

Peter blinks. “That’s…literally the _nicest_ thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Goodbye, Quill,” she says, turning to leave again.

“Wait! Can I hug you?”

“No.”

“Okay, okay,” he relents under his breath, holding himself back as she walks away. “Next time, Star-Lord. You’ll get her next time.”

Nebula continues without turning back, headed toward the clusters of people flocking throughout the marketplace. Peter watches her until she disappears into the crowd, the feeling of… _something_ swelling up in him. He’s not sure what exactly it is, but it’s not unlike the feelings he’s come to experience since Mantis joined them, his younger sister of sorts.

He returns to the ship, smiling to himself and pushing his hands into his pocket, his fingers brushing against a small, circular, silver object he’s been hiding for a while now.

**Author's Note:**

> I RLY WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING WITH NEBULA AND PETER BC THEY ARE A SPECIAL KIND OF BROTP THAT MARVEL HAS YET TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF,,,,, crosses fingers for iw and vol 3
> 
> also yeah gamora's probably way too modified to get super cold but also also idc SHE IS FOREVER A BLANKET HOGGER, ALWAYS COLD, TRYING HER BEST to me for the purpose of Advanced Snuggling
> 
> anyway i'm trying to title these all after christmas songs so this one's a reference to "santa tell me" by ariana grande, aka a TRUE bop


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